Hold on to what you see..

If you can’t be happy, at least you can be drunk.

But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.

I want you on a Sunday morning fresh coffee in my mug pancakes on my plate bacon sizzling on our stove your lips pressed against my forehead, wishing me good-morning and i want to spend a day of rest after a busy week right before another starts. I want to spend the day laying on the couch, my feet across your lap, a marathon of movies playing on our TV, a nice dinner later that night, before we fall into bed that night. I want you all throughout the week when I wake up early  and lay in bed this extra twenty minutes then rush because i’m late I brush my teeth you remind me that breakfast is important and hand me a granola bar and give me a kiss as i run out the door i want you there when i walk into our home later that night with my eyeliner smudged and my hair a little bit out of place I fall into a kitchen chair as you make us a meal you ask “How was your day?” and add on after turning around, “you look exhausted, you look so beautiful,” then you smile at me and later on I’ll get you into bed, and do you before i do the day all over again. I want you on a friday and saturday night  friday night spend with friends, late night diner food,  and then you and i  wrapped in our sheets, intertwined with one another falling asleep and staying in bed until noon,  getting out of bed to go grocery shopping,  maybe find something fun to do,  find some friends, go on a date,  then going home to lay in bed, tired as hell completely in love ready to take on the week ahead.